Without Our Faces
by SayHiDestery
Summary: It's been a year since the Kira case and Near has moved on. Mello, however, can't seem to do so that easily. To settle his growing insanity, Mello makes Near an offer he can't refuse. [Raw; will be edited upon completion.]
1. Before

I like to think we had the best of the worst relationships: that is, the most beneficial. However, despite how much I _want _to believe that, I know it's not true. I'm all logic, no emotion. A robot, as he liked to call me. He called me a lot of other things, but that one is the only one that ever really hurt. Hurt the most, at least. He always hurt me; every word that came out his mouth at me was hurtful. Back then, he didn't have a filter and I didn't have a wall and neither of us knew when enough was enough. I guess we were just trained that way… kind of like dogs.

_A breathless voice, hardly a voice, filled the humid air of the quiet bedroom. "Matt…"_

It's a bit sad, actually. I had no knowledge of Matthew's death until Rodger called me, informing me that he was taking it upon himself to organize a funeral in Winchester and offering to pay for me to fly out there. I politely declined, of course, as I was in the middle of finishing what L started: the Kira case.

_The bedroom was completely black, lacking all light, just like he wanted._

Despite Mello's predictable eagerness to be a sacrifice at the cost of solving the case, him and I put our heads together and thought out a much easier solution, one that was right in front of us. Knowing Takada had pages from the Death Note, we called in an old acquaintance of L's (she went by Ashlyn who happened to be Wedy's younger sister and just as capable) who managed to swap them with regular notebook paper which lead to Mello faking his death. He couldn't function properly after Matthew's death, anyways. But thanks to him, Light Yagami was caught and killed by the Shinigami, Ryuk.

_A hot huff of breath drifted over the albino's face before the mass above him fell._

It was almost a year later, the anniversary of Matthew's death, when Mello contacted me again.


	2. Encounter

The SPK disbanded immediately after the arrest of Light Yagami, and Near returned to Winchester in the February of that year. Despite the offer, Near refused L's title. Mello declined on the grounds of being emotionally unstable. Matt was deceased at the time of the offer. L's title went the fourth Wammy's child, a girl Near's age who shared Matt's laid back attitude, L's morals, and an overall spectacular sense of justice. The only reason she came fourth was because of her lack of effort on her part. Losing her parents left an impressive depression in R.

Near worked freelance, living in a one-bedroom apartment about thirty minutes from his former orphanage. He didn't keep in contact with any of the children, R, or Rodger. He works best alone, after all.

It was eighty-thirty in the morning and Near could already tell it was going to be a bad day. Not horrible, but still a bad day. For starters, the thunder from the incoming thunderstorm woke him up a half hour early and refused to let him sleep any longer, it was grocery and laundry day which meant he had to venture _out _into the thunderstorm, and his legs were giving him a lot of pain from the pressure change caused by the storm. Luckily, Near had two modes of transportation outside and three inside. Inside, he could brave the pain and walk, use his crutches, or his wheelchair. Today, he opted for the crutches to warm up his legs for walking. As for outside, Near could walk to his destination or take the bus. Due to the terrible weather, the first thing Near did that morning was pull up the bus schedule on his laptop. The next thing was make himself coffee. Near liked nothing more than a cup of black coffee in the morning.

"Mm." The albino hummed to himself while he curled up in the plush, chocolate brown couch listening half-heartedly the news reports. He needed a new case; it had been two weeks since he solved the Red Hands case in Wales and he was already running low on food money. While he was aware he could always go to Rodger or R for a case, the thought alone made his pride ache. He had a savings account, but that was set aside for a car. He'd rather not tap into it if he didn't have to. He still had coffee, milk, a container of oatmeal that was almost empty, leftover pizza, and a bag of baby carrots. He _really _needed a new case.

"...the assassination of Palestinian secretary Bilaal Amr has left thousands in distress and a handful pointing fingers at a possible Israeli-based assassination group called 'EYAL'. Amr appeared to have died while trying to escape his bedroom when an anonymous person placed Zyklon B in the AC of his hotel room in Russia…" Near's ears perked up to the conversation on his television, staring blankly at his reflection in the still, black coffee. He turned to watch the lively news cast on his screen, eyes sleepy but curious. "...It appears that this could be an act of terrorism, as it appears that the Zyklon B agent was put into the AC of everyone on Amr's floor, killing a total of sixty three people and putting two, an eight-year-old girl and her forty-seven-year-old mother, in the hospital. Both are likely to live. Among the dead were two other Palestinians who appeared to be accompanying Amr: Boaz Hayim and Tikva Yakira. We wait for more information on the victims and-"

There was a sizzle and then the sound of white noise - the cable cut out. Near rolled his eyes in irony and finished off his coffee. He put the cup next to two others on the coffee table. He wasn't a neat freak nor a pig. Dish day was tomorrow, anyways. He stood up, walking slowly from the pain to the laundry closet, where his washer and dryer were hidden away, next to the closet pole with only his dark grey fall jacket, his navy blue winter coat, and two pairs of his scrubs. Now that he didn't hold his health in that high of regard anymore, he only wore those out when he was going out for longer than three hours. He'd only be gone an hour today. He dragged the laundry bag from the single bathroom and sorted his clothes into three piles: lights, darks, and brights. He put the light load in first and made his grocery list. Since lights went fastest in his washer, he was able to switch them into the dryer and load the brights right after making his list. It only took him so long because he was listening to the newscast on the radio, tracking down how much money he could spend, and making a list all at the same time.

He showered, cleaned up, and got dressed just in time to take the lights from the dryer, switch the brights into the dryer, and put the darks in the washer. He folded up the lights and left the basket in his bedroom before locking up and heading for the bus stop. It was very cold, and the brewing storm wasn't helping anything. The little spurts of rain froze immediately, which made driving treacherous.

He was alone at the bus stop save for a sketchy man much taller than himself dressed from head to toe in black. The skin-tightening feeling of being watched crept up on him almost immediately, and he instantaneously became suspicious of the man standing idly beside him. With no sign of the bus, Near started speaking without warning, his eyes snapping up to the face of the stranger and managed to catch the man - obviously a man by the way he stood - staring at him. The man looked away immediately.

"Where are you heading to?" Near asked innocently.

The man's mouth was hidden behind the collar of his coat, so his voice was very muffled. "Cemetery." Near made out from the jumbled words.

"Ah." Near said shortly, realizing this conversation was of no interest and fished out his bus pass from his pocket. The bus turned the corner and they both got on. Near sat towards the front, because his next stop was in within the next fifteen minutes. The man dressed in all black sat across from him. He paid him no heed. When they came to the center of town, Near got off the bus and that man did not. That was the end of that, though if he was stalking Near for some reason, Near proposed he would get off at the next stop two miles down the road.

Near took his list from his pocket and checked things off as he put them in his basket:

_Eggs x _

_TV Dinners x_

_Cereal x_

_Oatmeal x_

_Sugar x_

_Bread x_

He was in luck, having just enough left over for a treat for himself. He never liked candy, but he held a better kind of liking for one thing in particular: chocolate. He hated it before Mello introduced him to it again.

His face fell in disappoint and curled in confusion when he saw all the chocolate bars had been bought. Curious and having nothing better to do, Near turned and half-ran to the cashier despite the pain in his legs. His mistake was rushing, he later realized, when he turned the corner back to the front of the store and unexpectedly collided with a tall body, his face bouncing off someone's chest and his rejected inertia sending him falling onto the floor. His head bounced off the linoleum and he grunted in pain, the sound of his basket and someone else's crashing making him wince.

_Today is a bad day, indeed, _he thought dryly to himself.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, already beginning a polite, pre-scripted apology. "I'm sorry, that was my fault. I was run-" He froze, staring at the basket - filled with probably every chocolate bar in the store - tipped over with no one to account for it. He righted the basket and picked up his own, continuing his pursuit to the cashier.

"Hello sweetie! What can I do for you, are you lost?" The cashier, probably a sixteen-year-old local high school junior trying to pay for her college applications and newly-needed gas money, cooed to him. He really detested his appearance in times like this.

"Cute." He said blankly, pulling out his wallet and showing the woman his detective ID. She looked very confused and a little embarrassed at assuming his age. "I need access to the security camera footage as soon as possible."

She seemed to fumble at his words. "I'm not supposed to-"

"Bring me your manager." He demanded.

A man about the same height as the cashier with balding grey hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache assessed Near with skeptical eyes. "ID?" Near showed the man who leaned in to look over it, eyes immediately rounding when he recognized the alias on the ID. "Oi! Didn't you solve the Red Hands case a couple weeks ago?" The man had a thick cockney accent, which Near wasn't expecting at all.

"I did." Near nodded with acceptance, his face still blank of all emotion.

The boy gave a firm nod and shook Near's hand. "Alrighty then, follow me back. Rose, keep working." He said, patting the girl on the back and leading Near away. The security room was dark with eight monitors, each showing a continuous stream of video feed from each camera in the store. "Eight cameras. How far do you need to go back?"

Near shook his head. "Please return to your business, I am well trained with handling security camera footage. I only need to find a face from about ten minutes ago, so I won't be taking anything with me, Mr…?"

"Arbor. If that is what you want, I will leave you to it." He said, closing the door and leaving Near with only the light of the monitors to illuminate the room. He put in the desired time he wanted in the camera towards the front of the store pointed towards the back of the store. He watched himself seeking out candy bars and then running and then…

"Shit." He heard himself say, expert fingers pausing at the precise moment the man he ran into turned and ran out the door. "What the hell are you doing in Winchester? Mello?"

Near brought the two bags of groceries in, dumping them on the counter. He was very shaken up by his encounter with his former rival. He put everything away without a thought until he came to the bottom of the last bag with the chocolate bar he bought. He threw it to the back of his pantry, forgetting about it immediately.

He still had to finish the laundry. He turned the TV back on, hoping the cable had reconnected. To his surprise, it had despite the storm that was raging horribly.

Near was halfway between folding his last load of laundry when he remembered why Mello would be in Winchester.

"Oh my god…" He felt the biting urge to curl in on himself. It was nearly six in the afternoon and Near had completely forgotten about Matthew. _It was his anniversary, right? He died a year ago today, just like Mello was supposed to before I stopped him. _It explained everything in Mello's shopping basket: chocolate, flowers, and an _I Miss You _card with a bag of Reece M&amp;M's, Matthew's favorite candy. Near put his clothes away numbly before collapsing on the couch and mentally taking notes of the news.

He felt something warm nuzzle his back and he turned over. He smiled sleepily at the German Shepherd mix that cocked her head at him with what could possibly be concern. "I'm fine, Rita." He said gently, putting a hand on her head. He realized he forgot to feed her this morning and jumped up to refill both her food and water bowl. Rita was Near's service dog, she was there for him on his really bad days when he couldn't move too much.

"Good girl," He mumbled to her, petting her gently while she calmly ate. He returned to watch the news, now actually taking down notes of what was happening. He had the choice between the assassination of the Palestinian secretary or the possible hijacking of a plane destined to land in the Netherlands this morning and didn't. Like normal, he would track both cases until L picked one and he would take her unwanted case. It's how he liked to work: without competing with L.

He watched the news the rest of the night, only stopping twice to eat or use the bathroom. It was around midnight when the lights continued to flicker from the storm that he was interrupted by the sound of someone pounding on his door. Rita growled defensively, only quieting when Near called her off guard. He was well prepared with cameras set up inside and outside the house. They recorded continuously and the only person with access to the footage was L herself. He also had a handgun on him at all times, as well as a Louisville Slugger right behind the door.

He opened the door, preparing himself to grab the bat.

"Near?"

Near's hand fell from the door handle, shocked. "How did _you _find me?"


	3. Bargain

The former rivals sat silently in Near's kitchen. Near was folded up in one chair, another cup of coffee cradled to his chest in his trembling hands. He wasn't scared of Mello, no that wasn't the case here. He was surprised, he was shocked, and he hadn't eaten at all today. Grey eyes lifted from the half-empty mug cupped in his hands to the boy across from him. Mello hadn't looked away from Near once. He was shirtless with a towel draped around his shoulders. His mug remained untouched, the coffee inside steaming still.

"I'll ask again: how did you-"

"Find you?" Mello interjected, cocking an eyebrow at the obviously wound up albino boy.

Near swallowed with difficulty. "Yes."

"I followed you home from the grocery store and then double-checked your address with Rodger; I went to Matt's grave and ran into him there. He's buried with A, B, L, and Watari." Mello explained somberly.

Near cocked his head to the side. "Oh? They buried Beyond there? I assumed they cremated the poor bastard."

Mello's eyes narrowed into slits. "Hilarious, Near."

Near shrugged in response and the room cascaded back into a tense silence, only the sound of the storm and the TV in the next room breathing life into this dead tension. It had been a year since the boys interacted but nothing seemed to have changed much between them. Near's hair was longer, he dressed like a normal person, and the dark circles under his eyes were a bit less prominent. To Mello, Near was all grown up and, even then, he still looked like a little kid.

"Why did you follow me home?"

The grating sound of the ceramic mug dragging across the circular, glass dining table made Near flinch, his eyes lifting once again to Mello. Once again, the blond made a note to stare - no, glare - at Near without looking at what he was doing. His intense glare over the rim of the mug made him shift awkwardly in his seat, his own eyes narrowing in return.

"I don't know."

Near paused in his ministrations of taking another sip, his eyes calculating his own expression reflecting in the black coffee. He set down the mug and blinked up to the cloudy blue eyes he didn't think he would ever grow used to seeing again. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Don't be an asshole."

A smirk turned up the left side - the scarred side - of his face. "It's what I do best."

"_Why _did you follow me home from-"

"I. Don't. Know." Mello bit out, leaning forward in his seat. Regardless of the dining table with at least a three-foot diameter, Near found himself leaning away, as though Mello was impinging on his space. "I don't know, Near. If I did, I probably wouldn't be here now. I'd be back at Wammy's in Matt's old room trying to figure it out."

Near felt the warm ball of steel in his gut grow hot with guilt.

"Speaking of which," He murmured in such a way that Near felt his muscles spasm with the sudden urge to hit the blond. It was superior and condescending, and it was very ugly for such a beautiful boy. "Rodger told me that you haven't been to the orphanage since giving R L's title."

"That is correct."

Mello's fist collided with the table with so much force, Near feared his would break it. "Why?" Mello asked with a seething rage that Near didn't recognize. It reminded him of a bull still in his cage, ready to break out and throw off his rider.

"Why?" Near echoed.

"Matt was your friend, too!" Mello snapped.

Near stared at Mello for a breath, controlling himself. "Matthew was a colleague, yes. But, I wouldn't go as far as-"

Mello was very stealthy, very fast, and very, very strong. Near made the mistake of keeping his gaze down, staring back at the reflection in the cooling java. His words stopped when he felt a hand wrap around his neck. He dropped the mug on the table, the coffee spilling and making the clear glass table a frosted brown. Mello dragged Near back to the wall and pinned him up, leaving him to reach for his breath on the tips of his toes.

"Well, well, well. Look at you, all high and mighty, but it seems you've lost a lot of weight. You're even more weightless than the last time I saw you. No more baby fat, huh? What's the matter, Near? Can't eat?" Mello left only about half of an inch between their faces as he whispered, "Is it all that guilt?"

Now Near was choking and gasping because _fuck_ Mello was in his space and now he was scared and _I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe. _"Me… Mello… stop… you'll kill me…" He struggled to say, though it was mostly unintelligible.

Mello smirked and leaned away, raising Near off the ground entirely. The younger boy immediately grabbed Mello's wrist and tried to hold himself up to breathe. His face was past red, slowly growing purple. Mello rather enjoyed the change of pace on Near's stupidly placid face.

"Answer my question and I'll let you go."

Near shook his head, coughing. "Not guilt. Just… not forced… to eat."

Mello smirked, raising Near even higher. The whimper Near made was music to his ears. He wondered if he was going to end up in Hell just for enjoying this. Then, he realized that - if Hell existed - he was going to end up there anyways and he didn't care. This as far too good to not enjoy. _Liar, liar pants on fire. _"You're lying, sheep shit."

Near made a kick for Mello's head, but Mello squeezed the boy's throat a little tighter and Near cried out, one hand crawling at Mello's while the other one held his wrist for dear life. "Mello, _please!_" Near begged. Mello observed the colored face for a moment, once he saw the blue peaking at Near's lips, he dropped the boy to the floor. Like a doll, Near limply fell to his knees and then his side.

Near passed out for several minutes, and Mello couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he used the time to clean up the mess he made. He had never liked making messes, and disliked leaving them even less. He was no clean freak, not like Beyond, just cautious. A mess can leave evidence, and he didn't want evidence of this accident in Near's home. He was here for a reason, after all.

When Near came to, he found himself lying on his back with Mello in a chair beside him, elbows on thighs, staring down at him. The kitchen light passed through Mello's hair like an artificial halo and Near felt the sudden urge to hit himself for thinking that. If anything, Mello came from the very depths of Hell, like his own personal demon. A living reminder that you can't save everyone, not even when you're ready to die for them.

"Why are you here?" Near finally asked, voice scratchy and soft.

Mello tucked some of his hair behind his ear, and then offered Near his hand. Near, of course, didn't take it and stood on his own.

"You're legs are stronger." Mello noted.

"No, they're not. I just don't trust you." Near bit out.

Mello scoffed. "Good answer."

"Now give me one."

His words hung suspended in the air, like a god took away their air and left them in its place. Mello stood also, folding his arms across his bare chest. Sometimes, Near felt the urge to ask Mello about all the other scars, curious and intrigued. Then, he realized, he probably didn't want to know _how _Mello got those.

Mello took half a step closer. "I have a proposal."

Near didn't say anything, letting Mello prepare his words before delivering them.

"I know you don't like doing field work while freelancing, and I also know you don't like going out into town to run errands. You looked annoyed at the grocery store. Am I right?"

Near gave a sigh, his throat still incredibly sore and he wondered why Mello had done that if he now wanted to bargain with Near. "Yes."

That ugly smirk again. It was only there for a second, a twitch of the lips that didn't go unnoticed by near. "Good. Well, I have two different offers to make, then."

"I'm listening."

"I know you are. Offer one: I'll run your errands, all of them, if you give me a place to stay."

Near let the confusion register on his face, his eyes lifting from Mello's sternum to his eyes. "You want to live with me? Why not the orphanage?"

"I need to get a permanent job, and I'd rather not be in the house of nightmares. Do I _want _to live with you? No, not exclusively, but I do need a place to stay and I can't stand being too far away from Matt." He admitted, and Near saw that bit of vulnerability that Mello was exposing. He was really trying here.

Near licked his bottom lip and then raised his hand to his long hair, curling a piece around his index finger. "I'm not saying I mind, but you are aware that this is a one bedroom apartment, right? As in, I only have one bed."

Mello was entirely stone-faced when he asked, "How big is it?"

Near's eyebrows furrowed, looking back to Mello. "What kind of question is that?"

"An easy one."

"A double, why?"

He shrugged. "It's a bit necessary for the next deal, unless you prefer the floor… or the couch, the wall, the table, the shower, I don't know."

Near was starting to get an idea of where this was headed, and he _really _didn't like that direction.

"Tell me, Near, what is your sexuality?"

"Are you joking?"

Mello shook his head. "I'm very serious."

He was stalling. "What does this have to do with your offer?"

"A lot, actually."

Near rolled his eyes. "I'm asexual."

"Pity."

"I'm guessing this puts a stop to this deal of yours?" Near asked, keeping the hope out of his voice. He couldn't say no to Mello. Not after taking away Matt's life.

"Not at all." Mello said with a smile in his voice. "Here's the deal: I'll be your field agent if you be my bitch."

Near's eyes widened an impressive amount before he moved out of Mello's way and shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, I am, that's why I'm asking this. I can't get over Matt, Near. I need this."

There it was again, that steel ball of guilt in his gut - maybe his heart - that was so heavy he wanted to fall to his knees. _It's my fault. It's all my fault_.

"I'm not Matt, Mello."

"I can pretend you are."

Near froze. _No. No. God, please, no. _"You want me to pretend to be Matt?"

"Only when we sleep together, yeah. I need him, Near. I need this. I won't be able to move on. You owe me, and you know it. It's your fault he's dead, after all."

There it was. The bomb was dropped. When Matt died, Mello never said it. He didn't want to compromise the case. Now, there were no drawbacks. The worst that could happen would be Near saying no. Mello approached the smaller boy who had his back turned. The shirt clung to the muscle and bones of Near's back and Mello could see that he was trembling.

_Good_. "So," Mello said casually, putting a heavy hand on Near's shoulder. He took pleasure in Near's jump of surprise (or maybe fear.) "Do we have a deal?"

Words took the place of air again and Near felt like he was being strangled all over again. "Yeah," He said hoarsely. "We have a deal."

* * *

\- Thank you for reading!

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\- Next update hopefully before the end of the year.

Destery 3


	4. Deception

It seems that everyone has a horror story, a skeleton in the closet, an elephant the size of Manhattan in the room of their heads. To each of these stories is a key at the bottom of the ocean, so no one can ever unlock them. Those who tried to swim to the bottom to retrieve typically end up dead.

Typically.

I tried once. I watched so many never-wrong-underdog detective shows as a kid, I thought I had a handle on the whole psycho-analysis bull at the age of four. In fact, that happened to be the very first time I spoke. Turns out I was good at it, because the very same day, I lost over fifty percent of the mobility of my legs and a lot of blood. After that, I didn't talk for another six weeks.

I have my own share of horror stories. The amount of keys I've thrown in the water could possibly cover the area of Madagascar. I'm not evil, but I'll never claim to be anything more than a normal person. Contrary to popular belief, I lost my ego a long time ago. Then again, with all the idiots in the world - me being one of them - it's not that hard to fake an ego, is it?

"Get up."

The first time I spoke to him was to answer a question, and I only spoke because I thought he was going to leave.

"Can you walk?" He asked me, and I regarded him with a look no different than I would use with a wall. I didn't even look _at _him, I looked _past _him like I did with everyone else. I was scared of eye contact from the moment it drew lines in my back that stayed with me for the rest of my life. I didn't answer at first; I always think about my answers. I was trained that way. When I took too long, his neutral expression curled into annoyance and he scoffed at me. "Whatever, freak."

He was halfway out of the room, one foot in and one foot out, when I called back in a hoarse voice. "No."

When he smiled - or smirked, they looked the same really: unfriendly - it was hard to tell if he was happy or annoyed, so it was even harder to tell if he was enjoying this or if he was pissed. "I thought so." He said, turning with that unreadable smile on his face and helped me out of bed. "That's all you had to say, Near."

"I know… Mello."

Static.

Near woke up to his own muffled scream and static. The TV went out again. He checked the clock on the wall; a quarter past four in the morning. Mello was asleep in his room. He had done more research on EYAL and R. Both had made no moves the media had picked up on, and he had fallen asleep.

Near put the notebook and pen on the coffee table and undid the buttons on his shirt. He ignored the bruises on his wrists that matched the pads of Mello's fingers. God, did he hate himself at the moment. He dropped the shirt on the floor and caught sight of a piece of torn out paper he didn't remember tearing out. In bold letters, it read: **This is all your fault, Matt. ** Near stood - like the bruises, ignoring how badly it hurt - and took the paper to the kitchen, then burned it using the gas stove and dropped it in the sink to rinse out the ashes. He could feel some of the scars on his back stretch uncomfortably as his head hung between his shoulders. Finally an adult and now he has become Mello's bitch.

_Wonderful._

"Near?"

The muscles of his back and arms tightened. "_I won't call you by your name when its dark." _Mello had said, and Near had wondered if that was just in the bedroom. Then, he realized he could see his silhouette on the counter. Mello had turned the light on.

He could see all the scars that marred Near's back.

Like always, Near didn't reply to the call of his name without urgency and he listened to the callused bottoms of Mello's feet draw across the tiled floor. Cold fingertips that left bruises on his wrists and hips and red lines across his thighs and chest brushed the top of his back and Near brought his hips into the lip of the counter, away from Mello, before straightening and turning around. "Don't." He bit, looking past his shoulder into the living room as he spoke. "What do you want?"

That unreadable smile, though Near was sure that Mello was annoyed. "Well, I wanted some water but _now _I want to know where those scars came from."

Near walked around him, throwing open the cabinet where he kept the cups as he went, shaking his head. "Tough. If I had known you were awake, I wouldn't be moving around without my shirt."

"How bold of you."

"Guess that means my back is off-limits while I entertain your stupid delusion." Near grumbled, heading for the living room with his back to Mello. He caught sight of Mello coming from the reflection in the picture frame across the room, but not soon enough. Mello twisted an arm behind Near's back and pushed him up against the wall, his hips pressed up against Near simply to throw Near off.

"Look, you little bitch, if you continue to talk like that, I will take your bony ass again on the floor. I don't think your weak, useless legs need another reason to not work right because, believe me, I was going easy on you a few hours ago. As soon as you can take it, don't expect to be walking right after I come."

As usual, Near didn't say a word. He didn't submit, but he didn't retort, didn't threaten to kick Mello out, and he certainly didn't fight back. He never did. It was one of the many things about Near that secretly confused Mello to the point of insanity. Like most things surrounding Near, it was another key at the bottom of a black, merciless ocean.

Mello finally backed out and Near slipped back into the living room, curling up on the couch and going over the notes he already on EYAL. Just as he opened the notebook, his phone went off. It was untraceable and the only people with his number was R and Rodger.

"Hello?"

There was a pause. "I knew you would still be awake." R used the same voice scrambler as L, but her voice had always been high-pitched so there was a noticeable different in pitch. She also wasn't one to keep emotion out of her tone.

"L." Near said with a small sigh of relief. He called her L out of respect, not identity.

She laughed. "How many times have I told you to call me R?"

"I gave you the title; I'll call you as you are." Near insisted.

R laughed once more. "Sure, sure. I'm calling to ask what case you plan on taking up. I see you've made no move to choose one. Are you waiting on something?"

Near let the tip of his lips turn up slightly. He didn't make a mistake in giving her the title; he was thankful. "You, actually."

"So polite."

"I am a gentleman when I want to be."

A snort. "Right. Ladies first? Really? I'm the greatest detective in the world, aren't I above cisnormative gender roles yet?" She asked with a sweet ease in her tone that Near felt himself envy.

"Have you chosen?"

"I have indeed, but I am willing to back down from it if it is the case you are more interested. You are just as capable, if not more."

Near held his breath before expelling it quickly. Rita hopped onto the couch and laid her head on his lap. "It's a bit of a risk… but I want to take on the assassination of Bilaal Amr. If I find out it's too big for me to take, I'll contact you."

"Wonderful! I've already started on the plane hijacking anyways. I believe it is connected to a cold case of serial plane hijacking."

"A terrorist group, maybe? A large one with generations?"

She made a sound of affirmation. "Perhaps. You'll see how it goes. The media follows me like the plague, after all."

"Right. We'll speak again."

"Goodbye." The line went dead.

Near reclined his head for a moment and shut his eyes. The connection between EYAL and the hijacking was a stretch, but possible. But there were a thousand other - and much older - terrorist groups that could be responsible. EYAL was all he needed to focus on now.

"Whoa, whoa, _easy._"

Near's eyes snapped open. Mello was about two feet away, frozen in what resembled L's posture, like he was going to sit down before Rita's hairs bushed up and she bared her teeth. Near put his hand on the side of her neck and shushed her. Like the well-trained dog she was, she reacted immediately and calmed down.

The corners of his lips pulled up slightly, his hand resting limply on her neck. "Well," He said, his eyes rising to Mello's and for a split second he looked no different from when he did almost a decade ago. "She only growls at threats, so I can't say she's wrong."

Mello nearly lunged, if it weren't for the stupid dog in his way.

Near tossed him the notepad, saying "Look over that." while he pulled on his shirt like a jacket and disappeared into his bedroom to get dressed. He came out in charcoal-colored sweats and an ill-fitting plain white t-shirt.

"Well, aren't you dressed to impress?" Mello snickered.

Near collapsed into the couch again, his fingers combing out his hair.

"It isn't like _you _have standards."

Mello's nostrils flared. "I'll remember that tonight."

Near shrugged, turning onto his side and turning on the news. He might be in a rut, but at least R definitely had something to go on, seeing as the English news was apparently focusing on the plane hijacking. "_... it seems that local police have called in the help of the world-famous detective L to work this case; how exciting!_" Near's nose scrunched up in response and he flicked through a few other news channels, all with the same peppy, red-lipped woman and her grey-haired, family man co-anchor, before he turned off the television all together and listened to the radio.

It was around eight or nine later in the morning when he decided to make himself shower and eat a protein bar. He also fed Rita, sitting beside her food dish with her as he ate his own breakfast. He read somewhere that eating with your dog helps bonding, but it just seemed silly to him. If he was honest with himself, he was only avoiding Mello.

The rest of the day consisted of Near sleeping off and on, Mello leaving mid-morning and not returning until dinner time doing God-knows-what, and Rita protectively circling him until she passed out at his feet around midnight in the living room. It was a little passed midnight when Near had finished cleaning himself up in the bathroom. He turned off the light and entered the dark hallway, and walked straight into Mello.

The taller boy grabbed Near at his waist and pushed him up against the wall, lips crashing down on his hastily and sloppily in the dark hallway. "God, I missed you."

Near didn't answer, realizing that this had quickly transitioned into Mello's deluded fantasy.

"_Don't answer anything I say - I won't ask questions. You don't sound like Matt, anyways."_

He didn't really know how to kiss, and it was horribly awkward kissing Mello of all people. His former rival… _enemy. _ He wasn't even attracted to him, and now he was stuck beneath him like a penny whore.

Somewhere in the middle of the hot sex and the intense make out session, Near felt tears on his cheeks that didn't belong to him. Mello was hurting… he was _really _hurting, needing the relief of grief this dumb situation gave him.

For the first time in possibly the entirety of his life, Near felt sympathy for another human being. He closed his eyes and tried to forget he was kissing Mello, tried to forget how fucking awful and painful the sex was, if only because the guilt and sympathy were smothering him.

He woke up on the couch the next morning after another freaky dream, but he didn't wake up screaming. Mello was still sleeping, as he was counting on. He made breakfast for two and left Mello's on the stove.

Mello joined him on the couch a half-hour later.

"Do you have work for me yet?" He asked like an impatient child.

Near was flicking through the news channels. "No, not yet. Aren't you looking for work?"

"Kind of."

"What's _that _mean?"

Mello scowled. "None of your fucking business."

Near rolled his eyes. "I assume you are trying to break out of the mafia. Did you move your syndicate here?"

"Yeah."

Near didn't respond, turning the TV off and the radio on. The hijacking was more important due to the higher body count and L's appearance, so Near had to venture onto the Internet for information. He could feel Mello watching him over his shoulder as he did his research.

"Do you enjoy reading over my shoulder?" He asked in a low, annoyed voice.

Mello gave up trying to be nonchalant about it and scooted next to Near, reading the articles with him. "You are working slowly, so I'm bored… so yeah, I do."

Near sighed, shaking his head as he scrolled through another trashy, repetitive news article that someone obviously made in less than an hour to fill some sort of quota. "I don't understand why you're living here if your syndicate is here."

"I didn't bring them here. They followed me, and do you really think I want to live with those mindless idiots? Please." Mello snickered and takes the laptop from Near.

Despite his attitude, Near notices how Mello is too fixed on the horrible article to move his hair out of his eyes. He's trying to focus on something other than what is around him and inside him.

He's hiding something.


End file.
